


The Process of Getting It

by blackmetaldahlia



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), She-Hulk
Genre: Choking, F/M, Multiple Orgasms, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink, matt murdock is a size queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 20:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5430362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmetaldahlia/pseuds/blackmetaldahlia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She makes an amused sound, like a single ‘heh’ of a chuckle except cut off, and then ducks down and kisses him. It’s – it’s incredibly awkward, she’s so much larger than him, and he finds himself with his arms on her shoulders, and then she pulls back and says “I want to pick you up,” to which he nods, and says <i>yes, yes</i> desperately. She smiles against his cheek and then he’s being lifted by – by his waist, and he straddles her waist out of reflex and tightens his grip around her shoulders. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow,” he says, breathless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Process of Getting It

**Author's Note:**

> I should be working on my finals, but instead I'm doing this. I'm sorry. It's about 2K to the actual smut.
> 
> The Luke/Matt is barely mentioned in passing.

Jennifer Walters has a heart like a sousa march, footsteps that make Matt’s bones rattle, and a voice that can’t be ignored. And Matt? He falls in love instantly.

“Dude,” Foggy says, apparently recognizing the Matt’s starstruck face. “She’s literally at least six foot ten, and her skin is green.”

“Which one is green, again?” Matt asks, absently, as she sits at the prosecution’s table. The chair creaks under her. He had heard the story of the Columbia alumni who had fallen victim to, well. Something with radioactive waste or gamma radiation, it was vague and hush-hush as his own superpower-endowing accident. Something with the big green guy.

“ _Matt,_ ” Foggy hisses, slapping his arm. “She can’t even see your goo-goo eyes but I bet she can feel them. Cool it.”

“She’s beautiful,” Matt whispers back as the audience starts to quiet down. “Can you _smell_ her? And she’s six foot nine, but her heels are three inches, and I can barely hear anything over her heart, Foggy – “

“If this is another _Elektra_ I’m going to make you wear noseplugs 24/7,” Foggy promises as the judge starts pounding her gavel.

***

She trashes them. She absolutely destroys them. She breaks their arguments before they even get the chance to make them, and Foggy spends the latter half of the trial with his head in his hands. Their client is almost crying by the end of it – but it was a case they were taking as favor for Brett, a hair away from a complete lost cause, and, well.

“You absolutely _obliterated_ us,” Matt says with a smile as he stands next to their table. He hears the shuffling of papers. “It was…terrifying, but also exciting.” Foggy is groaning halfway across the courtroom.

“Thank you, but I must say – honestly I was surprised your client even found defense attorneys willing to take his case, it was hopeless to begin with. Not too much to destroy in the first place.”

Matt shrugs. “We had one shot, but you blew it out of the water when you called up his cousin. We were gambling that you wouldn’t be able to get a hold of her.”

“It _was_ tricky, I’ll tell you that much. You went to Columbia, right? I think you were the year below mine.”

“Class of 2012,” Matt confirms. “Professor Bernardi still gushes about your last mock trial, last I heard.”

A chuckle. She smells amazing. She shoves her chair back and stands up, and Matt is once again struck by her sheer _size._ He’s tall, but not that tall, and she could pick him up and throw him as if he were a toothpick. He wonders if his head could reach her shoulders, if he stood on his toes.

“Well, you being a year under me doesn’t mean I didn’t hear about the blind guy absolutely destroying the curve in every class. If we were in the same year, there would have been a helluva fight.”

“Miss Walters?” someone asks, and Matt tilts his head and waits for their polite conversation to finish.

“Do you want to grab a coffee or something, sometime?” he asks once she turns back to him, and her heart skips a beat.

“Oh – um. Maybe. Look, you – you know about me, right? Someone told you?”

There are _so_ many things that could mean, but Matt supposes there’s always the most obvious one. “I know that you are… _very_ tall, and I’ve been reliably informed that your skin is…green, was it? Neither of which are a problem for me, I promise.”

She bites her lip, Matt can hear the sound of blood vessels protesting from almost foot above his ears. Wow.

“Okay. When are you available?”

He gets her number, which she programs into his phone for him. “VoiceOver, right?” she asks, vaguely. “I’ll put my name. I usually just put the bicep emoji.”

“I’m getting you neutered,” Foggy says conversationally when he climbs into the cab outside the courthouse. “Did you hear that, my man? We’re headed to the nearest vet!”

The cabbie snorts and starts the car.

“We’re just getting coffee.”

“Please.”

“Coffee!”

“Don’t be cute.”

“It’s just _coffee_ , Foggy.”

“Don’t.”

“You get coffee with Karen all the time!”

“Neutered!” Foggy repeats, almost sing-song, and Matt huffs out a breath through his nose and leans back against the chair.

***

Coffee does turn out to be just coffee. Jennifer – “Call me Jen,” – likes her coffee closer to tar than to water, and Matt can respect that. They talk Columbia, they talk the New York Bar, bunch of halfway-corrupt bastards that they are, they talk visible difference and how it influences their perception in the courtroom.

“I’m sure it’s very different, but I do know that you lose your anonymity when you’re perceived a certain way. Anyone who’s met me before can recognize me, I imagine it’s the same for you?”

Jen laughs, and she has a lovely laugh, deep and honest. “Tell me about it. People get so awkward about it, too – even here, can you hear how quiet everyone else is being?” He can. She’s lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “They’re afraid I’m going to throw a table through the window.”

Matt smiles and ducks his head. “Around me they’re just afraid they’ll say something tactless. Still rude, but a different flavor of rude.”

“Psh. How dull.”

“Could you, though?” Matt asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Sorry?”

“Throw a table through a window? Give ‘em something to actually talk about, you know…” he feels suddenly bashful, and he bites his lip and hopes the warmth in his face isn’t too visible.

“Oh, easily. This table can’t be more than eighty pounds.” It’s jostled, suddenly, and technically it’s eighty-three pounds, but he’s not going to correct her. “Piss me off enough, and I could probably rip the counter out of the ground.”

_“Wow,”_ Matt breathes, and there’s the distinct sound of lips parting, the smooth glide of a tongue, the burst of mint mixed with black caffeinated sludge, and she’s licked her lips, that’s what that combination means. Is that a good thing? Her heart is still steady, a sousa march overtaking the clatter of the machinery behind the counter. “That’s amazing.”

“Yeah?” she asks, and she shifts a little in her chair.

“Yeah,” he says.

***

They get coffee a few more times after that, and every time Foggy groans and huffs and threatens to get Matt some sort of chastity belt –

Which, well. He’s not _opposed…_

But Jen shows up at their office after their fourth not exactly date. Karen is immediately smitten, and shakes her hand, and asks where she finds heels in giantess sizes. Apparently Karen’s a size fourteen in women’s sizes, and that’s impossible to find outside of drag queen specialty stores.

Matt hears all this before Foggy even notices that there’s someone else in the office, but the moment Foggy notices, he’s out the door and offering to ward Matt off in case she’s just hanging out – he actually uses the word hanging out, what a square – with him because she doesn’t know how to tell him no.

“It’s a surprisingly common problem, he kind of looks like an otter,” Foggy is saying when Matt finally comes into the main area and smiles up towards the gentle wafting scent of coffee and tasteful citrus body spray.

“He’s _fine_ ,” Jen says, and Foggy whispers “ _She’s looking at you like she wants to eat you alive, just so you know, you bastard,_ ” so quietly that even Matt has to strain to hear him.

“I apologize for my partner,” he says with another shy smile. “What brings you here today?”

“Well, formalities first, you’re not representing Esther Allen Realty, are you?”

“Nope, we generally avoid representing clients who aren’t a single person,” Karen informs her cheerfully. Matt nods in agreement.

“Excellent. My client is being prosecuted by them, and I could stand to run a few things by someone who’s done tenancy cases before.”

“We can absolutely help with that,” Matt says, kindly, and Foggy butts in.

“ _Matt_ can help with that, Mrs. Delgado actually moved up her meeting with me so _I_ have to bounce.” His heart goes baBUMP baBUMPbaBUMP and Matt resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! _World’s best wingman._ ” The last bit is, once again, whispered.

Jen has most of the papers printed out in Braille already, and if Matt weren’t already more than a little bit head over heels, that would have been the tipping point. “It’s a matter of eyewitnesses, everyone in her apartment building claims to have seen these contractors, but the company is saying they never sent any out.”

“Huh,” he replies, dragging his fingers over each line. “Have they actually provided proof? Payroll, maybe?”

“They’ve been ‘In the process of getting it’ – airquotes in case that’s not obvious – for a couple weeks now. Driving all of us bonkers. Them dragging ass is making this entire affair take way longer than it should. I’m half-considering suing for undue mental duress.”

Her phone rings, and Matt tunes out so that he doesn’t eavesdrop, until he hears _“Are you with that other lawyer? The blind one with the ass like – “_

“Yes, Susan,” Jen sighs, turning away from him a little bit. Her body had warmed up a little bit, and Matt tries not to listen, but –

“ _When are you gonna get your giant green hands on that perfectly round piece of heaven? He’s totally into you!”_ Matt considers tracking down this Susan and getting her a fruit basket.

“Oh my god, you’re my _aunt_ , I don’t want to hear you talking like that,” Jen says, obviously smiling. “And soon, hopefully.” Soon. Hopefully. “Buh-bye, now, see you in a bit.” She hangs up. “My aunt, she’s better friends with our secretary than _I_ am, and she doesn’t even work with us. Apparently someone’s trying to start legal fires in the office, and they need me back there.”

“No problem, I wasn’t sure if I was keeping you too long anyways,” Matt lies, moving to stand up and walk with her towards the front door. Karen stops typing. “If you’d like to come back tomorrow, or…”

“Or you could come over tonight,” Jen says, quickly. “I mean, if you’re available. You are, right?” Her heart has sped up, just a little bit, and Matt can smell that she’s sweating. Karen is quietly chanting ‘Do it, do it, do it, do it.’

“I – yeah, I’m free. What time?” He would bet money that Karen is texting Foggy.

“Oh, after eight, I think. Want to meet at that place on 43rd with the amazing banh mi? We can eat and then walk over, my place isn’t far from there.”

“Lao’s? That works. That’d be – that’d be great.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then. Oh, and…” she bends down to whisper into his ear. “Bring a toothbrush.” _Soon. Hopefully._

“Will do,” Matt croaks, and then she’s gone.

Not twenty seconds after the door closes, Karen starts clapping. “Guess who’s getting laid tonight?” she sings, snapping on ‘tonight.’ “It’s you! I’m pointing at you.”

“I’m technically your boss,” Matt says hoarsely. “This is absolutely sexual harassment.”

“Matt’s getting laid, right?” Foggy asks as he slams the door open, and Matt throws his head back and groans.

***

The banh mi place _is_ amazing, as usual, and Jen explains the shitstorm that had brewed on her brief excursion to Nelson  & Murdock. She tells the story animatedly, gesturing and then remembering half a second later to describe them.

“I’m guessing the sound of a fork on a plate is enough to figure out just what I’m simulating?” she asks after a few vicious stabs at her plate, an effort to portray just what she wanted to do to the regional manager of a small publishing company.

“More than enough. Did it at least free up your schedule enough to get more done on that tenancy case?”

Jen swallows her food and makes a nervous sort of sound. “Actually we got it all finished, they finally sent along their obviously falsified documents. So, uh, after this. If you want, we can go straight to the, uh.” There’s a long pause, and Matt inclines his head in a silent attempt to urge her on. “The main event, if you will.”

“That sounds spectacular,” Matt says, with a smile.

Her place is only a few blocks away, and it’s small and tidy, but also on the twelfth floor with a broken elevator. No matter their night-time extracurriculars, that many stairs is exhausting to anyone, except apparently Jen Walters, who takes them two at a time the whole way up.

“I hope your rent is ridiculously cheap,” Matt half-wheezes as she unlocks the door. She laughs and kicks her shoes off. 

“Okay, living room straight ahead, kind of kitchen to your 3 o’clock, bedroom’s to the 9, and bathroom’s to the…eight, I guess?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Matt assures her, tapping his cane and listening to the reverberations echo up through the flimsy walls. She turns back to him.

“Feel free to take your shoes off. Actually,” she hesitates. “Feel free to take off a lot more than that, if you want.”

“I – just a minute, I’ve gotta…” he feels his way to the bathroom, where he loosens his tie and shrugs off his coat, before brushing his teeth with the travel toothbrush he’s shoved into his pocket. He debates for a long moment, and then removes his tie and shoves it into his pocket, and finally unbuttons the top couple buttons on his shirt. He can hear Jen moving things around, the slide of coffee grounds, the rustle of a filter. Coffee, then.

Self-consciously, he sniffs himself. Still a little bit smokey from a housefire a few nights ago, but other than that, pretty okay. _Pretty okay,_ he thinks to himself, _I am so bad at this_ , he follows up with, before rubbing his eyes under his glasses. And then he takes them off. “Sexual rain man,” Foggy had muttered more than once. He can do this.

When he finally opens the door and deposits his coat and shoes near the front door, Jen is watching him from where she’s seated on her counter. She’s humming, quietly, possibly to let him know where she is. He appreciates that.

“You have beautiful eyes,” she says, gently, and Matt ducks his head and blushes.

“Thanks. I’d say the same, but…” it’s his go-to joke, and she gives a soft snort and pushes herself off the counter and walking up so that he’s about level with her breasts.

“I’m going to touch you, is that okay?” she asks, when her hand is a few inches from his face. He blinks, and then nods, and her hands are so soft as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbone. He stands on his toes a little bit, and lets his cane fall against the counter as he reaches up to angle his face towards hers, expectantly.

She makes an amused sound, like a single ‘heh’ of a chuckle except cut off, and then ducks down and kisses him. It’s – it’s incredibly awkward, she’s so much larger than him, and he finds himself with his arms on her shoulders, and then she pulls back and says “I want to pick you up,” to which he nods, and says _yes, yes_ desperately. She smiles against his cheek and then he’s being lifted by – by his waist, and he straddles her waist out of reflex and tightens his grip around her shoulders.

“Wow,” he says, breathless, and she relaxes just a little bit, and moves to slot her mouth to his once again. “Wow,” he repeats, softer, and she uses the opportunity his mouth being open provides to both of their benefit. It’s a lot less awkward with their heads at the same level. He moves to kiss down her jaw, down her neck, and she lets go with one hand to start to undo his other shirt buttons.

If she can’t feel that he’s hard against her stomach, he’ll eat his own socks, and the gentle wafting smell of salt and sea and sweat is hinting that she’s just as into it as he is. “Are you okay with this?” Jen asks, tilting her head so that he has better access to her collarbones. He moans instead of actually answering, and he feels more than hears Jen’s answering laugh. She’s gotten most of his shirt undone, and he lets go for just long enough to shrug his way out of it, and smiles when he hears her pulse stutter at the sight of him in just his undershirt.

“You’re trying to drive me crazy, aren’t you?” Jen whispers, slipping her still-free arm under his undershirt, and her hand feels so _big_ against his side – he pitches forward, back into her mouth, and after a moment of furious teenager-style making out, pulls back and locks his legs to stay in place as he pulls his shirt off. Jen seems stunned, especially when rather than scrambling for purchase, he starts pulling the buttons of _her_ blouse apart, using only the strength of his legs to stay up.

“Well,” she says once he’s gotten her shirt unbuttoned and has returned to nipping at her collarbones and down, further, towards her breasts. “This _will_ be fun.”

And then she walks them to the wall near her door and presses him against it, directing his hands towards the back of her bra strap, and it takes him less than three seconds to have it unhooked. She pulls back and Matt slides his hands over her soft breasts, and then continues to get her the rest of the way out of her bra, tossing it in the general direction of the couch.

“Fuck,” he mutters when she presses back up against him, and the feeling of her skin on his is practically electric, and his hips buck – she grins where she has her mouth buried at where his neck meets shoulders, and then she bites down, and he shouts “ _Fuck!_ ” and he’s so hard he might _die._

“You like that?” she asks, teasingly, and he nods helplessly, reaching to run his hands through her long, thick, slightly wild hair. He skirts his other hand down, trying to slip his fingers under the tight elastic of her skirt’s waistband, but she catches that hand, and then the other one, and pins them against the wall above them with one had as she moves to lick into his mouth, and then starts fumbling his belt buckle with her free hand.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Matt whispers, boneless, as she shifts so that he’s basically sitting on one of her knees as she gives up on his buckle and just – _tears_ his belt off, taking one of the belt loops in his pants with it.

“Sorry,” she mutters, and Matt shakes his head, don’t apologize. Don’t apologize.

“Le’me,” he grits out, wiggling his arms just a little bit, and she shakes her head no and then drags her hand up the expanse of his stomach, coming up to pinch a nipple and then back down, and Matt’s actually going to die like this, dead from the world’s most aggressive boner, while immobilized against a wall by a giant woman. Sounds like the best way to go, he decides, and lets the moan that’s been bubbling in his throat (since she asked if it was okay to touch him, since she told him to bring a toothbrush, since he heard her sousa march heart) out, long and loud and absolutely _filthy_ , and he feels her legs spasm just a little bit.

Finally, _finally_ , she dips her hand into the now-free waistband of his pants, and he kicks a little bit, trying to get just a little bit of friction, just a little –

Her nails scrape the head of his dick and he gasps, lifting himself by his trapped wrists so that her knuckles drag across the head and down the shaft just a little bit. They both freeze, Matt in the shockwave following actual physical contact with his dick, and Jen in – in shock, it sounds like, shock that Matt was so _into_ this.

“You love this, don’t you?” she whispers, and Matt nods, wrecked, too wound up to do much of anything else. Slowly she dips her hand deeper, so that she’s got her fingers spread, the base of his dick trapped between her middle and ring fingers, and then she pushes her knuckles against the skin just to either side of it, and Matt throws his head back, slamming it into the wall. It’s too little, it’s barely even touching him, but at the same time it was just too damn _much._ “What do you _want,_ Matt?” she whispers into his ear, and Matt didn’t even notice her moving, leaning closer, even now that he could feel her bare breasts pressed against him. “Tell me.”

It takes a moment, and then Matt’s mouth opens and he’s babbling the sort of shit that would have him in a confession booth the moment this is over – “I want to ride you, I want you to _use me_ , I want you to fuck me so hard that I can’t even move, I want you to hold me in place so that no matter how hard I struggle I can’t get free, I want you inside of me, use me like I’m nothing, like I’m nothing, I want you to tear me in half, I want you to make me bleed, holy fuck, Jen, please just fuck me fuck me _fuck me_ – “

She withdraws her hand and Matt almost cries, but then she’s let go of his wrists and they’re moving – it takes a moment for Matt to get his bearings, but they’re headed towards the bedroom, and Jen’s heart is pounding, and with the sound of her legs shifting he can finally get a sense of – she’s wet. She’s sopping wet, for him, and then she’s tossing him – gently, but still _tossing –_ onto her bed, and he rolls, feeling her scratchy sheets, and she’s pulling her skirt and tights off, and then her panties, and the smell gets so much more potent. Matt moves and shoves his pants over his hips – little point in giving her a show if they’re both _this_ close – and down and off, and then his socks, and then his boxers – little black boxer-briefs.

Jen freezes. “Your boxers are bright green,” she says, with a slight chuckle.

“What? They’re supposed to be black,” he says, feeling for the tag, which doesn’t offer any useful information at all. Machine-washable. Thanks. “Fuck, I think Foggy bought these for me. Oh my god.”

She’s laughing, not unkindly, and shoves his clothes off the bed. “It’s fine, I just wanted to acknowledge the joke if there was supposed to be one. Green’s kind of my color.”

Matt throws his head back and groans. That hadn’t even occurred to him. “No joke, at least not at you. I’m going to kill him.” Foggy is _way_ too good at those weird little not-quite-white lies.

“Not until I’m done with you, you’re not,” she informs him, before opening a drawer and rooting around, and –

Oh.

He knows those sounds. Silicon against wood, leather and metal D-rings clanging merrily, the soft smell of water-based lubricant – his personal drawer makes a lot of similar sounds. “I don’t usually bring this out on the first date, but…”

She puts something into his hand, something. Big. Wow. “Oh,” he says, hating how small his voice sounds. “Oh. Okay.” He runs his hands over the rest of it, and he _needs_ both of his hands to do it –

“It’s, uh, proportional,” she informs him. “So, yes, no? I don’t get to break her out very often.”

“Yes,” Matt says, instantly. “Absolutely. One hundred per cent.” He runs his fingers at the tip, feeling on one end a very large head, and on the other end a sort of bulb, and ridges that are probably for clitoral stimulation.

“It’s a feeldoe,” she informs him, and he hears the clattering of a harness. “Technically, you can use it without a harness, but in terms of aesthetics and also how I personally prefer to fuck, that technicality doesn’t really matter. Think you have a good feel for it?”

Given that his dick had gone from half (or, to be honest, seven-eighths) mast to once again rock hard just from imagining it inside of him, he nods and holds it back in her general direction.

“I’m going to ask for a safeword,” Jen says as she finishes up her buckles and takes it from him.

“Avocado,” Matt says, instantly, and there’s no sound for a moment. And then Jen laughs.

“You can’t see my face, but I promise I’m _incredibly_ amused.” And then she makes a few gasping sounds, and the smell of sex and sea intensifies even more, “I’m putting it in, in case you didn’t get that,” she says, sounding strained, and Matt groans and resists the urge to palm at his dick. She grabs something – lube, probably, and then throws herself onto the bed next to him. The springs in her mattress groan in protest, and she reaches out a hand and pulls Matt down to her mouth again – he can feel her dick prodding him in the hip, now, and he throws one leg over her and rubs himself against the carefully sculpted silicon.

“Hey,” she mutters, “turn around and sit down.” Matt frowns, and tries to comply, except she picks him  up and sets him so that he’s straddling her torso, backwards. And then, gently, she pushes him forward. He brings his hands up to find her dick, not warm like it’s supposed to be, and she whispers, “Give it a little kiss,” so Matt does.

“Think you can fit it in your mouth?” _No_ , Matt thinks, but he opens his mouth and runs his tongue around the outside of the head regardless. Jen opens the bottle of lube, and as he slides just the head of her cock into his mouth, he feels one finger slowly enter him. He freezes, tensing, and then forces himself to relax, letting her get all the way to the second knuckle.

“God, you’re tight,” she mutters, and Matt hums around the dick barely in his mouth as she fucks him on her finger. Gently, she adds another one, and Matt leans forward, taking more of her dick into his mouth, licking up and down. It tastes vaguely salty, like lube and sweat, and he feels a little bit of drool dripping out of his mouth.

At one point in his last year of law school, he and Foggy had gotten in a fight about Matt’s habit of sleeping with complete strangers after Elektra “didn’t work out,” and he had stormed off. Since Josie’s was out, as it would be one of the first places Foggy would look when he calmed down, he followed his nose to the cleanest dive bar in the area, a place he still didn’t know the name of.

There, he had flirted with the bartender, an extremely buff man named Luke, who had let him stay after closing and then fucked his brains out. He had been gentle, and spent forever getting Matt good and ready – “You’re gonna need it,” he had said, kindly, and Matt had just moaned and thrown his arm over his face – which at one point involved four fingers.

Luke was easily the biggest guy Matt had ever slept with, and just two of Jen’s fingers are putting him to shame. She tips her hips up, and Matt gags but stifles it, determined now. If it can fit in his throat, it can probably fit in his ass. Another finger, and Matt lets out a long, aggressive moan that vibrates up the shaft of Jen’s dick, and she clenches around her end of it in response, sending it bumping against his uvula.

“You’re taking this so well,” she whispers, and Matt blinks back tears as he forces himself just a little bit further down, stifling his gag reflex. “So well, so well,” she’s moving, and bending her fingers, and he jolts, sending the dick in his mouth even further in and rocking them so that Jen’s fingers seem to be hooked inside.

“-en,” Matt grunts out, before she grabs his wrists, again, and pins them behind his back. One for both of them, again, the other hand is still in his ass.

“I’m going to add one more, Matt,” Jen says, and her voice is way too calm for the position she has Matt in. “And I’m not going to take them out until you’ve swallowed my whole cock. Can you do that, Matt?”

Matt tries to nod, sending more drool past his lips. He’s very carefully breathing through his nose, and even that method is getting increasingly more impossible. And then Jen has one more finger inside of him, stretching him, and he yelps and swallows convulsively around the cock in his mouth. He panics for a moment, feeling a little bit dizzy, but then determination seizes him and he makes himself lean forward, driving her fingers further into his ass, and her dick all the way into his mouth so that he’s nuzzling her coarse pubes.

“Good job, Matt, good job,” Jen mutters, jerking her hips and confirming that there’s no more to go into his mouth. She spreads her fingers once more, just to be safe, and then slowly pulls out. Matt stays put, barely able to breathe, jaw sore, until she runs the fingers of her free hand over his bare back.

“Do you want me to fuck your mouth, Matt?” she asks, and Matt nods, emphatically. Yes. Yes, he wants that so much, holy shit. Her free hand trails up to his hair, and then takes hold, and slowly pulls him about halfway off, the texture of the silicon catching on the inside walls of his throat, and then she _slams_ him back down. Matt chokes, and Jen freezes, but Matt continues to nod, even as his eyes well up with tears, and she pulls him up and slams him down again, fucking his mouth _hard._

Just when he thinks it might be too much, when he thinks pain might be overtaking pleasure, she pulls him all the way off, and he pants as colors and stars burst in front of his eyes. He can’t see anything, but his brain still wants to tell him ‘you almost died, asshole,’ so at least he still has that to look forward to next time he decides erotic asphyxiation is something he’s into.

“Check in with me,” Jen says into his ear, and Matt clenches around nothing. He feels loose and filthy in a way that he hasn’t been in, well, a long time.

“I’m good, I’m great, I’m ready to go,” he coughs. He’s completely hoarse, and Jen rubs his back for a moment. She goes from tender to forceful in barely a second, and _god_ but he loves it.

She lifts him like he weighs nothing, and he scrambles for purchase on the bed, feeling lube squelch around in his ass, and the she’s turning him around so that he’s facing her, and he wonders if she looks as wrecked as he feels. Slowly she lowers him, and he feels the tip of her cock at the rim of his asshole, still slick with his own spit. She hesitates for just a moment, hands clenched around his waist, and Matt nods gently, as if to say “I’m ready, I can take it,” and then she slides him down – faster than he would have gone on his own, but slower than she had slammed his mouth down around her.

She gives him a moment to sit, feeling the absolutely _massive_ girth of the thing inside him, easily the largest thing Matt’s ever experienced and for a moment he regrets not begging for five fingers. And then he shifts, and it effortlessly brushes against the cluster of nerves – _oh._

He tosses his head back and tries to lift himself up, tries to fuck himself, but – she’s holding him in place, effortlessly, and he whines and pushes against her hands, which are going to leave bruises the size of dinner plates, and his dick is going to _fall off_ –

Right as he moves to touch himself, she lifts him, scraping his prostate again and sending stars bursting, and he moves instead to grab at her hands, and then she pushes him back down, and her breath catches as he rolls his hips against her. She presses up against him, and then arches her back, taking them both up and pressing somehow even further into Matt, whose legs are bent so that he’s kneeling as if in prayer. He wants to reach out, to touch her, and he lets go and runs his hands up her stomach to grasp her breasts, flicking his fingers over her hard nipples, and she bucks up against him, leaving him gasping.

“Matt,” she pants out, and then she’s holding his hands down against her and fucking him, pounding into him, and he tries to match her rhythm but it feels like he’s going to be thrown off with every thrust, except for her arms locking his in place. He bounces up and down on top of her, barely more than a doll to her, and his cock is leaking so much precum that he’s shocked he hasn’t come untouched like a teenager.

“Jen, Jen, _Jesus fucking Christ_ , _Jen,_ ” he hisses, and then higher and louder in volume to match hers, an unending litany of little “Yes, yes, yes”s and “Ah, ah, ah”s. He’s fairly certain he’s not even saying words by the time her entire body goes tense, and he _feels_ her fluttering around the base of the dildo, pushed so far into him he’s surprised he hasn’t burst. She’s cumming, and her silent scream is somehow even hotter than the actual screams some women have dragged out for him –

But then, when she collapses, boneless, onto the bed, she reaches out and grips him around the waist, and before Matt can even ask what she’s doing, she’s fucking him on her cock, harder and faster than anything he’s ever done before. His arms scramble for something to hold onto, and his legs have turned to jelly, and then she arches her back again and he’s screaming, he’s screaming, and he’s coming, and everything goes staticky for a moment.

When he snaps back to reality, he realizes that Jen is riding the waves of another orgasm, and he brings his hands up stroking at her breasts and neck and arms as she quivers underneath him, and this time when she falls slack against the bedspread, he slowly – so slowly – drags himself off of her – he thought he was loose before, now he’s concerned about how long it might take for him to stop leaking lube. Curiously, he reaches down and feels the oversensitive rim of his hole, startled at how easily he can sink three fingers into himself.

“You back online?” he whispers, as Jen’s breathing evens out. She huffs out a laugh.

“Didn’t know they made screamers in your size,” she says cheerfully, before reaching down and unbuckling the harness. She makes little moaning and gasping sounds as she pulls the dildo out of her and drops it on the floor next to the bed. “Damn. That was amazing.”

“Yeah,” Matt agrees, shifting and feeling his muscles protest. “Yeah. Wow.”

“You okay?” she asks, turning to look at him. He can practically feel her scanning his body, probably making note of the bruises on his hips and arms, the bite marks around his neck and collarbones and one around his nipple that he doesn’t even _remember_. “Never seen a guy as into it as you were.”

“I’m great. I’m perfect, that was – that was _perfect_ , holy shit. We have to do that again.”

“Right _now_?” Jen asks, shocked, and Matt shakes his head.

“No, no, I might actually die, but. Later, definitely.” He leans down and puts his head on her chest, before deciding ‘fuck it,’ and throwing one leg over, too.

“He screams, and he cuddles,” Jen says, amused, shifting so that she can throw the covers on top of them. “I just might have to keep you after all.”

***

He limps into the office the next day, and Foggy is immediately all over him, demanding to know what sort of stupid shit he had gotten into as Daredevil, did he have a sprained ankle? A stab wound? Did Claire know?

It takes ten minutes of Matt’s only response being a dazed and stupid grin before Foggy freezes and then bends down to get a better look at Matt’s neck.

“Neutered,” he then hisses through a grin – the way the acoustics of Foggy’s mouth work are _ridiculous_ – and shakes his head, before returning to his own office and slamming the door.

Karen stares at him for a long time, before Matt shrugs and says “What?”

“Can I get her number?”


End file.
